


Twisted

by yeaka



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Ficlet, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 21:42:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mokuba helps Jou study for a test.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twisted

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own YuGiOh or any of its contents, and I'm not making any money off this.
> 
> This is a redrabbled version of the extremely old story, 'Twisted Study,' from my ancient FFN account.

Jou knows he’s an idiot when it comes to standardize testing. That isn’t news. Unfortunately, Yugi and Honda aren’t much better. Anzu is, but she’s unbearable to be around for as long as it would take for her to drill their many textbooks into his head. Duke doesn’t have time to deal with Jou’s idiocy, as he put it, and Ryou doesn’t like having anyone over at his house for ‘personal’ (yami) reasons.

Seto Kaiba is an asshole who Jou has no intentions of asking for help, but Mokuba’s quite another story. Even though he’s a few years young than Jou, he’s several dozen IQ points higher. And he’s cheerful and fun, and apparently all too happy to help Jou out.

Showing up at the Kaiba mansion was just as foreboding and cold as Jou thought, but Mokuba’s room isn’t so bad. It’s messy as all hell, just like any normal teenager’s room, blanketed in discarded clothes and upturned games. The walls are covered in scribbles—everything from diary entries in Korean to world domination plans in German (as Mokuba explained it). Mokuba practically glows as he stretches out across the foot of the bed, devouring Jou’s text. Jou’s nestled in the pillows at the head, stretched out and sock-covered feet almost bumping into Mokuba.

“This is pretty basic stuff,” Mokuba interrupts their little quiz session to say. Jou’s lap also has a book open, but not in the same subject Mokuba is testing him on. Jou finds studying, like most things, easier when social. Jou nods. “Just give me a second to read ahead—they’re being really vague about some stuff I already know, but I don’t want to overload you if my knowledge isn’t going to be on your exam.” Jou nods again, feeling awesome.

He’s happy to take a break from answering questions—he was getting more than half wrong, anyway. Even though Mokuba was nice about it, it was discouraging. Jou slumps back in the pillows, looking at his book like he’s using the time to read.

He’s not.

He’s daydreaming, and his mind drifts over what Yugi’s up to and what cards he’d like to get. Does Mokuba have any special new cards? Probably. Mokuba has the best of everything.

It isn’t fair, really, for one person to have so much. It isn’t that Mokuba doesn’t deserve it—he is, after all, adorable and wonderful, kind and sweet. And he deserves a medal for putting up with Seto the way he does. But _still_ , it’s just that he has so much of _everything._ Even just looking around his room. His room is about twice the size of Jou’s. The furniture is all of much better quality. He has all the best games and just generally _all_ the games, both of the video and board variety. There’s even a Twister mat over by the television. With a sigh, Jou figures Mokuba’s probably great at Twister, too.

Mokuba’s brilliant. He’s smart as hell, creative, and ingenious. He’s warm and genuine, and he’s even good looking. He’s lithe and thin, small and cute, with gorgeous, silky black hair and bright, purple eyes. He’d probably be great at Twister—could probably contort his body into all sorts of shapes with ease, and he’d probably look great while doing it—

Jou cuts himself off abruptly, half because he’s simultaneously shocked and ashamed of his thought process, and half because Mokuba is saying, “Hello? Earth to Jou—are you listening?”

Jou shakes the blond hair out of his eyes, muttering, “Huh? Uh, sure, what... what about earthquakes?”

“We’re on _chemistry_ ,” Mokuba sighs, “Geez, we finished earth science an hour ago.”

“Did we?” Have they been at it for an hour? It doesn’t feel like that.

Rolling his eyes, Mokuba grabs a pillow off the foot of his bed and throws it at Jou. Jou’s too dumbstruck to dodge in time—it hits him right in the face. It isn’t hard, of course. But it’s still an _attack_ , and if there’s one thing Jou’s good at, it’s needless fighting. He grabs a different pillow and chucks it across the king-sized mattress. Mokuba dodges with catlike reflexes and picks it up right after. Then he sits up and swats the pillow at Jou’s legs. Jou grabs his own pillow and tries to knock Mokuba off the bed, but Mokuba stands up and runs over to smother Jou’s face. Jou whacks him across the chest, but not in time—the pair of them go tumbling over the edge in a frenzy of flailing limbs and uncontrollable laughter. Jou lands on his back in a pile of jeans—Mokuba lands atop him, pillow falling next to this head.

Jou’s legs are still hooked over the mattress. Mokuba’s are to either side of Jou’s stomach, straddling him. Mokuba’s hands land on Jou’s chest. They’re both breathing a little too heavily from the exertion, both a little flushed.

Jou is acutely aware of how Mokuba’s bottom is brushing his crotch, and how he was very much just thinking of Mokuba stretching across a Twister board. Mokuba’s face slips into a frown too, and he looks just as embarrassed by the turn this has taken. But he doesn’t move. He looks down at Jou with something odd in his wide eyes, mouth working as if to say something.

Eventually, Mokuba manages, “We... we should get back to studying.”

Slightly breathless, Jou mumbles, “Do we have to?”

Mokuba grins. “Jounouchi, you have exams coming up!”

“But it’s boring,” Jou whines. And there’s no way he’ll get his head back into gear for work now. It’s having _way_ too much fun doing other things. Besides, they did make _some_ progress. He does his best attempt at puppy eyes, pleading, “C’mon, let’s play a game.”

Mokuba’s grin reaches his eyes, and he practically giggles, “Okay. What do you want to play? I have everything under the sun.”

“I noticed,” Jou snorts. He’s still lying down with Mokuba on top of him, but he lifts slightly up on his elbows to peer across the room at the floor-to-ceiling shelf of video games.

Then the door clinks, and Mokuba scrambles off Jou so fast it takes the wind out of him. Mokuba’s tossing the pillows back onto the bed when Seto steps inside, drawling, “Mokuba, we—” He stops mid-sentence and abruptly changes course, glaring. “What’s that mutt doing here?”

“I’m helping him study,” Mokuba chirps, as Jou straightens himself out and sits back against the bed.

“Well, send him home,” Seto scowls, not really talking to Jou even though that’s the direction he’s sneering in. “We’re going out for dinner.”

“Okay.” Mokuba lights up like a beacon at the prospect of eating dinner with Seto: a concept that blows Jou’s mind. Seto nods and shoots Jou a warning/death-glare. Jou expects him to leave, but he doesn’t.

Rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to lunge across the room and beat the shit out of Seto for ruining his Mokuba time, Jou stands up and collects his books. Mokuba looks up at him with an apologetic look all of his face, asking quietly, “Can you come back sometime?”

Jou can’t resist looking over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at Seto. Seto looks absolutely livid, like the concept of his brother actually _liking_ Jou is killing him. Jou’s quite happy to tell Mokuba, “See you Friday?”

“Okay.” Mokuba looks like he’s never heard a better proposition.

Jou reaches out to ruffle his hair. Then Jou walks out the door, past a very angry Seto, trying vainly not to wonder if they can play Twister on Friday or not.


End file.
